Wednesday. April 2nd.

Reading Plato in the morning, then Blackstone at the Office. No letters from home.
Nothing remarkable occurred during the day which I passed in my usual avocations.
But omitted them in the evening. I cannot account for the remarkable feeling which
has this week possessed me. An unaccountable apathy and dullness have come over me
and my usual labours give me no gratification. This has not been experienced before
since my arrival here. It is attended with an excessive propensity to sleep which
strikes me as being unnatural. But I am among other things strongly liable to fits
of hypochondria and so I don’t remark symptoms. But I could not sit up beyond ten
o’clock.